


The Man On The Stage

by NotAKarrInTheWorld



Category: Rusty Quill, Skyrim
Genre: But it's fun so, Garry Catman, I don't know why I'm writing this either lol, Other, The Tales Of Garry Catman, might as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAKarrInTheWorld/pseuds/NotAKarrInTheWorld
Summary: In an old tavern, stories are told. Some are quickly forgotten.Some become legends.(For Mike Lebeau's 30th birthday)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. The Tale Of The Troll

In a dimly lit tavern at the edge of reality, I find myself, staring at my drink. Time is a delusion, and so is the liquid in my cup.  
Where am I?  
Who cares.  
The sounds here are silent and the images are muted. The only thing that sounds loud and clear, are the words coming from the Man on the Stage.  
His stories are endless, his tales marvelous, his words like spun wool, being morphed and made into a beautiful tapestry of imagination and reality.  
I have been listening. It's all you can do in this tavern. Listen and drink. Drink and listen.

A soft clapping goes around as The Man On The Stage finishes another story. Was it a good ending? I don't know. I can't remember. All the stories flow together and nothing remains but the memory of a memory.

The clapping ceases and the tavern grows silent once more. Time for another story.

The Man On The Stage takes a breath and starts to speak, slowly, clearly. And as he talks, he builds a new world.

''Long ago, in a faraway land, there lived a hunter. This Hunter, a beast, a fighter of great renown, was a merciless creature. In his past, he has fought dragons and bandits, vampires and wolves, but in the present?''

The Man On The Stage pauses, taking a swift sip from his cup. We do the same.

''In the present, he's hunting for a new prey. Bigger than any other prey he has hunted so far.  
He is hunting for an Ice troll.''

''Tales of this troll had been plentiful. The brave and the foolish alike had attempted to strike down the monster, leading to countless wounded and even more who perished on the mountain, never to return. So now the people fear the mountain, going around it or avoiding it altogether. But our cat-shaped hero, the Hunter, did not fear this creature. He was not scared of the monster on the mountain. He knew what he was meant to do and he was going to do it.'' 

A soft cough sounds from somewhere in the room. Empty glasses are exchanged for full ones. I take a long drink. It tastes like the abyss. The Man On The Stage continues.

''The Hunter set out in the evening. The night was a friend whereas daylight only harmed him. He reveled in the lightless lands and the sounds of the midnight were home to him. Silently, he made his way up the mountain, fur glowing red under the moon. The hunt was on.''

''It took him a few hours to reach the peak of the mountain. His feet ached and he could feel the fatigue setting in, but there was no time for sleep for, there it was! The Ice Troll's hulking form appeared on the ridge above him, twice if not thrice his own size. His aerodynamic form melted into the snowy ground, slowly creeping nearer to his prey, making no sound for he carried no weapons or supplies. He was one with the ground. Closer, closer, closer, he crept, until he could smell the monster, count the scars on its body, see the spears still sticking out of it.

The night reached its height, the moon shone strong and clear, as the Hunter braced himself.''

The crowd moved forward, feeling the climax coming. I turn from the bar, facing The Man On The Stage as he grins. 

''And as the Hunter lept upon his prey he shouted his battle-cry ''GARRY CATMAN!'' before punching the monster once, twice, thrice, more and more.'' The Man On The Stage's words pour out of his mouth like a waterfall crashing on rocks, making us understand the blows, feel the punches.

''The Catman ducked and jumped and lept and punched and clawed until all that remained of the ice troll was a bloody corpse. The monster was defeated. Garry Catman was victorious once more.''

With that, The Man On The Stage takes a bow and moves to the bar to get a new drink. We clap.  
Another story has been told.  
The Tale of Garry Catman.

AN:  
Thank you for reading and happy 30th birthday, Mike!


	2. The Tale Of The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ''You want another story,'' The Man on The Stage says. No question. We're all ears and he knows it, revels in it. We need him to speak just as much as he needs us to listen.  
> A smirk tugs at the Man's lips. ''Well, let me give you something.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on The Adventures Of Garry Catman, the Skyrim sessions of Mike Lebeau of the Rust Quill.
> 
> CW:  
> -blood  
> -violence  
> -questioning of reality  
> -death  
> -Alcohol  
> -Garry Catman

In a dimly lit tavern at the edge of reality, I find myself staring at a drink. Time is a delusion, and so is the liquid in my cup.

Where am I?

Who cares.

The sounds here are silent and the images are muted. The only thing that sounds loud and clear are the words coming from the Man on the Stage.

His stories are endless, his tales marvelous, his words like spun wool, being morphed and made into a bloodied tapestry of imagination and reality.

I have been listening. It's all you can do in this place. Listen and drink. Drink and listen.

A soft clapping goes around as The Man On The Stage finishes another story. Was it a good ending? I don't know. Have I heard this before?

I can't remember. All the stories flow together and nothing remains but the memory of a memory.

The clapping ceases and the tavern grows silent once more as The Man on the Stage stretches his spine with an audible crack.

''You want another story,'' he says. No question. We're all ears and he knows it, revels in it. We need him to speak just as much as _he_ needs _us_ to listen.

A smirk tugs at the Man's lips. ''Well, let me give you something.''

''Long ago, in a faraway land, there lived a hunter. This Hunter, a beast, a fighter of great renown, was a powerful creature. In his past, he has fought bears and lions, werewolves and trolls, but in the present?''

-

He takes a second to settle on his chair and continues.

-

''He is walking, making his way to a new place, a new quest. He is not alone. The Hunter has found himself a companion in the shape of a large wolfhound. Together they make their way through frozen cliffsides and mountains, fur to fur, step by step. The dog sniffs and nips at The Hunter's hands, letting out a small whine. The Hunter pauses and pets his companion, letting his gaze pass over the horizon and the faint rays of sunlight it still emits.  _ Finally _ , The Hunter thinks,  _ It's nighttime.'' _

''His vampiric blood loathes the sun as much as he himself loathes the monsters of Skyrim, and the darkness of night brings him power and calmth. Perfect time to climb a mountain. The Hunter grabs a ledge and pulls himself up, letting his mind wander.  _ We will cross this mountain soon enough _ , The Hunter says to himself, _ after that, perhaps I can find a dragon.'' _

_ - _

I take a sip of my cup. When did I receive this drink? What is it? Why does that matter?

-

''The Catman pulls himself onto another ledge, his companion jumping up after him. Then he hears a sound and stops, blood going cold. He strains his ears, turning them to find the source of this distant noise, when he realizes what it is. Wing flapping. ''What the hell?'' The Catman mutters, turning around to face that what he wishes he wouldn't have to.

A frost dragon.''

-

A gasp runs through the crowd. We all know how terrifying frost dragons are, right? It doesn't matter we don't recall where we learned to fear them. We know.

The Man on the Stage's voice swells with force and fire as he continues his tale.

-

''The Catman jumps behind a ridge and pulls out his bow. He wasn't planning on fighting a dragon but he cannot let it escape now. His tired arms are firing at the beast as fast as he can, hitting its wings and sides and face, bringing it to the ground in front of him, allowing him to leap onto it and start raining down punch after punch after punch upon the monster below him, the burn of cold searing through his furry knuckles.''

''He takes a step back and takes a moment -just a moment- to focus his power, summoning his inner fire and lighting up his paws with magic, before one strike of the dragon's tail sends him to the ground with enough force to knock the air from his nimble feline-body. The dragon takes off again, thick blood dripping onto even thicker snow. Garry pushes himself up, grasping at a thick gash on his side where the tail cut through his armor, deep red blood seeping into his fur and clothes.

''Pain and magic course through his body, his vision filling up with dark crimson as he fires arrow after arrow into his assailant. The crimson darkens, and he feels his legs give out as his body falls to the ground once more. The dragon has turned around and is coming for his bones, loudly roaring in anger and pain.

''He is a strong hunter, perhaps even the strongest in all of Skyrim, but even he has his limits. As a roar comes nearer, Garry Catman closes his eyes and lets go.''

-

Silence. Not even the sound of a breath. There is nothing but quiet as The Man on The Stage stops his tale. We wait. The Man smirks at us, a knowing look on his face. The tale is not yet over.

-

''But before the life can fully bleed away from The Hunter's chest, another roar cuts through. A spark of hope lights up in the seasoned warrior's body as he remembers: He is not alone.

''The hound, his furry cousin thrice removed, is no longer gently licking at his claws for pets, but instead has turned his snout into a furious maw, sending anger and pain upon the mighty dragon, snarling and snapping and biting and tearing it to shreds, allowing his owner- no, his  _ friend _ to heal.

And heal he does.

Garry Catman gets up from the frozen ground, tail whipping in pace with the pounding of his heart. He will end this.

And so, as the dog bites down once more, The Hunter jumps back into the fight with renewed energy.

Agony in his soul, fur bloodied and filthy, he lays another punch on the creature, feeling the bones beneath shock and awe give away into nothing.

The dragon slumps.

Garry Catman is victorious once more.''

-

With that, The Man On The Stage takes a bow and moves to the bar to get a new drink. We clap. We forget.

Another story has been told.

Another Tale of Garry Catman.


End file.
